One Last Look Before I Go.

I woke up this morning with a strange sense of peace. 

Also with the realization that I really, really had to pee.  

And so it is that this, the final day of this pregnancy, begins.

The boys and I are celebrating with toasted-coconut donettes while Daddy has one final opportunity to sleep in before he has "big kid" duty for the next 2 weeks.  Me? I'll be the one passed out with a baby attached to one nipple.  (I'm suddenly imagining the google searches that last sentence will no doubt invite, and it would be funny if it wasn't so sad.  *insert Jedi Mind Trick wave here* "This is not the porn you are looking for".)

I'm going to go ahead and recommend that nobody expects to see anything in this space for the next few days - unless of course Big Daddy is feeling ambitious and decides to post some photos while I'm in the hospital.

Thanks for all the love and well-wishes through this pregnancy - especially this last month.  My sanity has been kept just barely in check some days, and it's always nice to have the emails and comments cheering us on.  Even better than a caramel latte - and if you know how I love my coffee then you will appreciate the profoundness of that statement.

And so, dear internets, for the moment I will bid you adieu as I head out on this next leg of our Adventures in Baby Making.  

See you on the flip side, my peoples.

Or "Why I Obviously Need More Therapy".

See, I've developed an obsession with Facebook.  Which goes well with my addiction to Bloglines and Twitter, especially since the internet is the only thing that induces me to actually talk to other humans on many a day. 

And if you didn't already know I tend towards the reclusive, HELLO and welcome late to the party.

So the ADS on Facebook.  They have, so far, been wickedly in tune to my brain.  I think they're using some sort of advertisement brain ray to suck keywords from my brain.  Remind me to start wearing a tinfoil hat when sitting in front of the computer.

Today I was minding my own business, absently perusing the status updates while I waited for my cnn.com video to load, when I started seeing ads for birth announcements.

Well Crap.

This is the part where I confess that I have not once, not even for second, given any proper thought to what I am going to do about birth announcements.  

With the first two babies I was ambitious and creative and made my own.  I am, after all, supposed to be a photographer.  Linen paper and a good printer was all it took to come up with something I could distribute with abandon.

That was then, y'all.  

Now? Now I am desperately trying to live up to the expectation I set that I would not be one of those moms who lets the third kid get lost in the shuffle.  And the internet is making it so very easy to create fabulous birth announcements in a range of lovely designs, and at the cost of only about half the kid's college education.

So you see, Uncle Sam... before you go giving a huge check to these silly failing banks, PLEASE understand that the $2200 cost per citizen?  I already have that earmarked for printed paper products.  Because I am a good consumer, and also because I am high on estrogen and popsicles... and spending unholy amounts of money on something pretty trivial seems like a preferable alternative to actually, you know, making something myself.

Thank you for your attention to this vitally important PSA.  We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.  At our house, this means Noggin.

Are we there yet?

So after the doctor's appointment on Monday wherein I still had no cervical progress, my OB took pity on me and said "Okay, let's schedule that induction".

I heard the words "Tuesday night check-in and Wednesday induction" and nearly wept with joy.

Then the chi-chi hospital Birthing Center (where I had Toby and determined to have this baby, too, even though it's almost an hour away because it is just that posh, people) broke my fragile little heart by not having any openings.

No openings until Sunday night.

Which means that I will be induced Monday morning.  Which is also a full 2 days past my due date, which makes me want to weep again.

BUT.  But at least we have a date, peeps.  Monday! I'm having a baby on Monday!  And hopefully he won't be so huge by then that he won't fit through my delicate pink parts.  (And to the Lady Who Did Not Know Me at Walmart who decided to tell me I was "for sure having at least a 12 pounder! - you can suck it, Lady.  Keep your opinions to yourself. Unless you want to tell me I look fabulous and, by the way, did I know that I also smell really nice? Because THAT is all you are allowed to say to a pregnant woman you do not know unless you want her to get medieval on you.  If she could actually do that, anyway, but I'm too pregnant to lift this economy-size pack of toilet paper and swing it over my head to bash you with so JUST GO AWAY ALREADY!)

Phew.  Okay, so I feel a little better now.  Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

Now I just have to figure out how to fill some hours between now and Sunday night.  You know, some stuff that's more fun than the laundry and vacuuming that I need to do anyway.  So far? I have decided to work on neglected crochet projects and maybe bake some cookies.  Yes, my own ambition impresses me as much as it does you.  (*cough*)

Yep. Still Pregnant.

39 weeks.  One week to go before we start blaring Black Sabbath at the belly in hopes of torturing the baby out.  

Doctor's appointment later today.  I'm not getting my hopes up.  Still looking for the services of a good cervix whisperer, y'all, because we need that 1cm so induction can begin.

Seriously, that is all.  I am now spent.  I think it's time for a cookie and a nap.

Doom and Gloom - Courtesy Guest Poster: Big Daddy.

Oh how I love you Uncle Sam!

No sooner had I read of AIG possibly being toast...it did, in fact, happen.  Feds are going to gobble it up.  80% ownership for the feds and an 85 billion dollar loan.  How kind. 

So not that I want to shake the tree of oddities and doom but when does one throw their arms up and say, "Welp, it's been great but this whole FREE MARKET ECONOMY thing is done."  Not that I BELIEVE that but the past year, especially these past few days, have certainly been a signal that it's not all it's cracked up to be.  

And to make a turn for "are we really having this conversation?" territory..  What American companies actually still remain?  GM?  Rumor is they're asking for a 50 billion dollar government-backed loan since their stock is in junk status.  Not that there is enough liquidity out there for them anyways.  So what then?  America's one and only company that can break the addiction to oil goes the way of the dodo?  I mean, what are we talking about here?  Will this country become a nation with a state-controlled economy?  By the time this is all cleared I'd wager that more than a good bit of America's private financing institutions will be gov-owned, gov-funded, or in some obligated stance with the government.  

So to follow my slippery logic to it's dubious end: Could we be seeing a situation where the US Government owns US Companies and fills these companies not with regular hard-working Americans but overpaid contractors (ZING!) and outsourced talent?  Will there be large swaths of the population working to pay taxes on takeover costs of companies the Government now directs - to become profit engines who lay off Americans and hire full working divisions overseas?   All the while continuing to squeeze the middle class and profitable tax base until we're left with a depleted middle class, further disillusioned with a government who runs all the financial institutions, has GM on the dole, and spends over 30% of its money on the military industrial complex instead of health care, education, and infrastructure projects?  

.... oh wait...  that's already happening.

I hate being chicken little but if you asked me 8 years ago... 4 years ago... hell... even TWO years ago if we'd be where we are today (hell, even 10 miles from where we are today) I'd not have believed you.  WHY would I?  Oh well... I heard McCain invented the Blackberry so there's clearly important debates now to be had.  Toodles!

Have You Ever Seen The (Frog) Rain?

We could talk about how Jack woke up at 2am this morning, wide awake and ready to party.  

We could talk about how Jack fell asleep this afternoon and took his first nap in about 4 years.

We could talk about how Jack woke up from his nap in order to vomit copiously.

We could talk about the lovely surprise baby shower the neighborhood gals threw for me this afternoon, wherein I was showered with kindness and presents galore.  Milo finally has some BRAND! NEW! STUFF!  Because, this being my third pregnancy, the sum total of what I had procured for him consisted of a couple of onesies from the local consignment shop.  No more! He now has a plethora of items that will be his and only his.  One of these items is a flannel set of bib, burp cloth, and satin-edged blanket lovingly hand-crafted by my friend's 85-year-old Grandmother - whom I have never met.  My own Gram passed away last Thanksgiving weekend, and my other Grandma just moved into a care center at the age of 90.  There aren't great-grandmas around to make blankies for Milo, and so he gets to be the lucky beneficiary of a woman with enough love to spare for a third little baby boy.  So, yeah, that's the point at which I nearly cried.

We could talk about how I finally broke down and got the Twilight series, and swore never to admit it... and how I got so wrapped up in the vampire world Stephanie Meyer created that I read the whole series in a week.  Twice.

But no.  Instead? Instead let's talk about how I finally screwed my courage (or stubbornness, depending on your perspective) to the sticking place and determined to shave my legs after six weeks pregnant neglect.  Let's talk about how I squeezed myself into a warm bath and determinedly wielded my pink Lady Bic until my wookie-like gams were finally smooth.  

Then we can talk about how I used my foot to open the drain and let the water out, then reached back to lift myself up and discovered several inches of standing water remaining in the tub behind me.  Because? Because my ginormous ass had made a watertight seal with the bath tub.  

We can talk about how this discovery was quickly followed by the realization that I was firmly wedged into the tub.  I was completely and undeniably stuck.  

And so I pondered my predicament for a few moments, then sighed and turned on the hot shower.  I sat like that, wedged into the tiny tub with the hot water running over me, for a few minutes before Big Daddy wandered into the bathroom after mowing the lawn.

"Are you okay?" he wondered.

"Yeah... not so much.  I'm stuck."

"Were you planning to call for help?"

"Definitely No."

"Can I help you get up?"

"I think you're going to have to."

On second thought... let's not talk about that either.  

Let's talk about you.  How are you doing?

Ground Control To Major Tom...

Where have I been, you say?
Well, nothing like interrupting the second week of Kindergarten for this:

"This" being a fractured left clavicle.  On the playground at school.

So there was that, which was obviously awesome.  We'll be spending one afternoon a week at the Orthopedic Surgeon for the next few weeks so the injury can be x-rayed and monitored.  The good news is it should heal up in about a month.  Or so they tell me.  

Then there's the contractions, which come frequently but without sufficient strength or regularity to actually count as "Labor".  They do, however, have enough strength and regularity to leave me exhausted.  Yesterday they also seemed to be indicative of labor, but after an hour or so on monitors at the hospital the nice nurse assured us that, no, this baby is not quite ready to make his appearance and all that uncomfortable squeezing? That's just baby warming my body up for the real thing. Which could be tomorrow! Or, you know, a month from now.  Because the baby wants Mama to lose her mind.

And then Toby, poor Toby, has suddenly forgot how to sleep through the night.  This morning found him climbing into our bed at 4am, and by 5 he and I were downstairs watching Oswald episodes off the DVR.

So pretty much that's where I've been.  Aren't you thrilled that you asked?

On Experience.

Good to know even Karl Rove agrees with me on the experience issue.

I'd like nothing better than to elect a woman (and, bonus, a mother!) to either of the high offices of this country. A qualified, reasoned, experienced woman. One who understands foreign policy, one with credentials of impact beyond "Raging Social Conservative", who doesn't claim to want to cut pork after securing over $20 million in federal earmarks for her town as mayor of Wasilla - a town of less than ten thousand people.

I look forward to the day I can vote for a woman - when the label "woman" is meaningless, because she will be simply the most qualified and well-suited person for the job. This is not that woman. To be fair, her social views would keep me from voting for the ticket regardless of her qualifications, but at least if she was suited for the position I could understand and support the desire for people I respect to see her in office. As it stands, I am at a loss.

And I think that's all I have to say on Sarah Palin.

Or "Words I Never Expected To Utter..."

Thank you, Bill O'Reilly.  

Thank you for the laugh. I really needed it today.

The Frump is Catching.

Redsy posted about feeling the frumps.  Apparently it's catching, or at least a symptom of Fall, because here is the view of your hostess this morning:

Pregnant, frumped to the gills, and also appearing to sport a lady combover? I swear that's just an illusion caused by flat hair.  

There's so much going on right now I could write about, that I should want to write about... I mean there's a hurricane run on the gulf coast, McCain picked a VP running mate, we just got through a bought of baby stomach bug (poor Toby. He's all better now, though!) and, hallo, Obama speech at the DNC!  

But the sad truth is that I am tired.  No, I am exhausted.  I am ready to have this baby and regain the ability to see my feet, let alone put on shoes without assistance.  I am ready to sleep on my stomach again, to stand up without the aid of a crane, and to go more than an hour without the necessity of stopping for a pee break. 

There's also a distinct possibility that I am slowly tipping down the other side of the peak and heading back into depressed territory.  I recognize it, I'm discussing it with my doctor, and I'm preparing to take appropriate measures to head off the meltdown.  

In the mean time, though, I'm trying to regroup.  I'm working on writing a few letters and touching base with a few friends before the baby gets here.  I'm trying to get the house in order and figure out the logistics of life between now and the holidays so that I don't get totally overwhelmed in the crush of it all.  We're trying to get a babysitter so the hubs and I can get a night out alone together before the baby gets here.  (We haven't had a real date since.. umm... hrm.  Yeah, it's been a while.)

So forgive me if I'm not on top of things for the next while.  Finding the Zen in our particular Zoo requires that immediate reality take precedence over reality of the virtual kind even more than usual. And if you wander away, just check back from time to time.  I promise I'll be back to form eventually.  

Welcome To Our Sitcom

So we're engaged in our usual Saturday-night pastime of channel surfing when we happen across the "Transformers" movie and a shot of the bod-licious Megan Fox.  We both spend a moment in quiet contemplation/appreciation of her hotness.

I casually mention to Big Daddy that I recently read an interview wherein Miss Fox admitted to being something of a nymphomaniac.

BD: "Huh? ...Really."

Me: "I wish you could see your face right now."

BD: "What?!  I mean. Um. That's just... uh.. interesting, that's all."

Me: "Mmm-hmm..."

(a moment passes)

Me: "Are you sweating?!"

BD: "Uh. No! I mean.. no." (wipes a hand across his brow)

Jack: "Daddy, are you pouring your drink on your head?"

BD: (pause) "Yes, Son.  Yes I am."

Yep, just another typical Saturday night in the Casa De Aum.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go hose down my husband.  I believe he may have spontaneously caught fire in the next room.

Friday Foto Feature

Hello, internets.  

This week has been one of those weeks.  Jack went off to college Kindergarten.

I do not recall giving him permission to grow up.

Toby was understandably confused by this whole idea.  His brother? Going somewhere? WITHOUT him?!  He apparently missed that memo, and posed for one good photo before the whole situation started to dawn on him and he became increasingly nonplussed by the whole deal.

2 illegally cute children and one empty can.

It's somebody else's can. I didn't notice it until after I took the photo.

Then, I VERY RESPONSIBLY kicked it to the side and took 2 more photos.

Tobin refused to smile in either of them.  Hence? Great photo which includes random litter.

It is probably coincidence that Toby woke up the next morning with a fever and proceeded to puke his way through the day.  The fever is finally controlled, and the puking appears to have ceased - and thank the Buddha for that, because I don't think I could have handled being puked on at 2am two nights in a row.  I mean, it's no picnic on a regular night, but in case you somehow missed it - I am incredibly freaking pregnant.  HOW pregnant, you ask?

WELL. Since you asked.

I was reading Amalah today, who happens to be one of my favorite reads and who also happens to be pregnant.  She posted her 33 weeks belly photos, lamenting her hugeness.

I laughed until I cried.... and then? Then I just cried.

Allow me to introduce to you the Belly of Aum at 35 weeks plus some days.

Actual unretouched photo.  

Because obviously if I was going to doctor it, I would have first removed all those Freddy Kreuger-esque stretch mark scars.

Clearly this baby is intent on setting some sort of weight record and perhaps getting his own reality show.  Me? I'm just hoping he can be pushed out without the aid of a backhoe.

Enjoy the Silence.

This face? This is the face of a 5-year-old.  One who will start Kindergarten tomorrow.  And, not to get all sappy on y'all, but I'm not exactly sure how I'm feeling about that.  At least tomorrow is "Orientation Day" and we'll just be popping in for half an hour to meet his teacher.

Wednesday, though, he gets on the big yellow school bus bright and early... and doesn't come home until just before dinner.  

Adding to my general sense of malaise today is the fact that I got up about 8 times to pee last night - after Tobin finally went to sleep at 11.  And then? And then there's the fact that I have 5 weeks left in this pregnancy and I am sooo ready for this baby to vacate my premises.  

SO let's just say I'm having a petite blue period.  Let's leave it at that.

Really Good Excuses...

Here are two of the very good reasons why, even when the internet decided to work (thanks dude whose spotty but entirely unsecured wireless allowed a few quick interludes with the internets) I didn't manage to communicate with the outside world from the beach.

Tobin ponders life's imponderables.  

Like is it really gross to pee in the ocean? I mean, the fish do it...

Jack... providing a very clear example of why I find myself frequently replying

"No, he's not of mixed race.  Unless you count German and Scots as mixed..."

I did manage to participate in 2 rousing games of scrabulous online.  I was tired and needed a distraction besides the 5 awesomely trashy romance novels someone kindly left behind at the beach house.  Yes, 5.  My brain is so full of a jumble of slutty lifeguards and sexily earnest cowboys it's a wonder I haven't made Big Daddy do some dress-up role play with me.  I call dibs on the role of jaded-but-secretly-romantic executive with the hots for his secretary.  Honey, prepare to take some dictation -- if you know what I mean.  And you know you do.

Pants: Still Flaming.

I know! I didn't post anything! For days!  Not even photos! Because I am a big liar.

In reality, we had spotty internet (at best) at the beach house and I was actually quite busy... what with all the lounging in chairs on the beach, eating a metric ton of seafood, and trying not to have a panic attack watching my husband walk out into the roaring surf with mah preyshus baybeez.  I was sure a rogue wave would snatch Toby out of his arms to be lost forever at sea.

If you've ever been to the Outer Banks, you know the waves there are relatively calm.  Also, if you've ever met my Mother you know my crippling and irrational Fear of Horrible Things That Will Never Actually Come To Pass is purely genetic and not in any way my own fault.  

The beach over all, though, was soothing, relaxing and pretty much exactly what we needed after an unprecedentedly hectic summer.  Also, the break from the computer made me realize that I am overdue for a slowdown on internet time.  So I'm going to be doing less of that for a while - at least until Milo arrives and I'm a slave to the house and the schedule of a small mewling infant who wakes at all hours.  Which isn't to say I won't be blogging - I'll just be putting a lot less pressure on myself to do so.  And probably posting a lot more photos and a lot fewer words.  Photos that may or may not have anything to do with... well, anything.

And, on that note, I will leave you with this.

Jack's R2D2 Birthday Cake.

Pants: On FIre.

It's a rough Sea Lion life.  Eat, sleep, lounge. Repeat.

Fisherman's Warf; Pier 39, San Francisco

So I didn't get enough questions yet to justify the random things post.  So I'm a big liar, and I'm not going to post anything clever here for the next week or so.  

And I'm here on the Outer Banks.  And it's raining.  And yet still beautiful and relaxing.

And I'm lazy, and I'm on vay-cay-shun, people, so in lieu of posting actual stuffs while I am here for the next 7 days... I will be attempting to post a daily photo.  Some will be of the scene here on the Outer Banks.... some will be from BlogHer... and yet still others may just be random photos from the recent-past that will fill up the space.  

Enjoy.  

Public Nudity. Only, Not Really.

In spite of the fact that I have chosen to chronicle some of my more intimate life details and personality quirks on the internet, I really am quite mum about personal matters.  In person, anyway.

I've realized recently, as the comments have begun to pick up around here a bit (and THANK YOU! I want to snog each and every one of you, but my husband is afraid I might enjoy it a wee bit too much and abandon him.  Probably to live on an all-girl-blogger commune with the Redneck Mommy, who I smooched full on the lips at BlogHer.  I regret nothing, and I would do it again this instant if the opportunity arose.  This time with tongue. Hi, Tanis! Heh.) 

*cough*

So, um, yeah.  Like I was saying, I'm kinda shy.  (Seriously. I swear.) so when you lovely kind people leave comments I DO think about responding to them, but then I realize that makes this internet-conversation-with-myself more like a real conversation with Other People.  And then I start to sweat and twitch and generally retreat under the covers with a novel and a bag of gummy bears.  

I'm trying to overcome this particular quirk.  

In that spirit, I volunteered to be interviewed by Pete at Fiddley for his Blogger Love on Wednesdays podcast a while back.  Now I'm going to do something even more revolutionary. (After all, even though people would be listening to that interview later, I only had to really focus on talking to Pete... and he happens to be one of the nicest people in the state of Utah, so that was much less scary than anticipated.)

I'm going to ask you, dear readers, to ask me some questions.  Really.  You can either post your questions in the comments or, if you prefer, you may email them to melkist (at) gmail (dot) com.  And then, before I leave for the beach next week, I will post the answers to your inquiries.

So if there's something you have been dying to know about me, or if you're just idly curious and happen to have some extra time this week, go ahead and fire off a question or two.  I may filter through them (if you're one of the people who keeps stumbling upon this site by googling for "Mom Panty" or "Sexy Spanking" I completely reserve the right to ignore you.  Or send you a referral for my shrink.)  Oddball questions will earn extra points, and to kick things off I will now answer three questions that absolutely nobody asked.  

Q) Are you a natural redhead?

A) I don't remember.  It's been so long since I let my natural color grow in, I'd be hard pressed to figure this one out.  But the carpet doesn't match the drapes, so if that's any indication I'd have to say no.  My (currently blond) sister has the "natural redhead" claim to fame, and the requisite second hairdo to prove it.  Just don't ask her if you can check for yourself because she is secretly a total bad-ass and she will cut you, you perv.

Q) What is your husband's real name?

A) Big Daddy T is a moniker I adopted because some of his coworker friends have/do read this blog.  I would hate for the wrong person at his office to stumble across the site and perhaps make me the unwitting cause of any awkwardness at work.  I will reveal that his actual first [name begins with the letter "J", which adds a whole new layer of confusion, now, doesn't it? You may now stew on that for a while.

Q) Why "Aum" Mom? Do you do Yoga? Meditation?

A) First because "Aum" rhymes with "Home" and I thought it was clever.  Second because I have done yoga in the past, as well as Pilates.  I preferred pilates, for the record, but they both gave me a sense of calm which I strive to translate into everyday living with varying levels of success.  I am also a semi-casual student of Buddhism, and it felt like a nice triangulation all around.  When I do manage to go to the bathroom and finish without interruption I tend to consider that my meditation for the day; otherwise I try to find a few minutes to sit quietly in a chair and ponder the nature of existence.  More often than not the "sitting in the chair" method results in an impromptu nap, which is okay because it helps me find a teeny bit of zen in my day.

So there you are.  It's the internet equivalent of Public Nudity as I blog (metaphorically) naked for you.  Feel free to be creative or to ask silly questions (I think toilet paper should roll forward off the top, for the record).  I'll even throw in a prize of some sort for the best question, with the winner to be chosen by Big Daddy.  I'm not sure what the prize will be, but does it really matter WHAT you win as long as you win?  Something to ponder while you're sitting there thinking up fascinating questions for a semi-fascinating woman, now, isn't it?

Nothing Doing

I woke up this morning, ate breakfast with Big Daddy and the boys, got Big Daddy out the door and on the road in his shiny new silver car (no sign of mining gnomes yet, but I'm keeping a vigilant eye), and then I sat down in one of our wing chairs with the most recent Entertainment Weekly while the boys settled into their play for the morning.

Two hours later I woke from a sound sleep to find two angelic children playing quietly at my feet.  I think they might have been mine, but since my boys are not famous for quiet play I can't be entirely sure I didn't hallucinate the whole thing in that semi-comatose state between awake and asleep.  

But really that's neither here nor there, except to explain that I lost 2 hours today and got a much later start than anticipated on the grocery shopping and house chores.  And I still can't seem to find the cable for my camera, so I have no photos for you.  I'm so far behind the power curve that I might officially be upside-down by now.  Which would explain the hair, y'all, because today I resemble a horrifically pregnant Lyle Lovett.  

Which is all really getting at the point that I probably have nothing to say today.  I know! One of "those posts" where the writer is all "I'm just posting to say I have nothing to post".  Did you know those posts can be quiet helpful for the writer if they are, say, extraordinarily worn out and looking for a good excuse to procrastinate the starting of dinner?  

I am a champion procrastinator.  I also happen to have a ridiculous case of ADD, which helps because it's quite easy to delay doing things if you can't remember exactly what you set out to do in the first place because - ohh! Lookit that, I really need to redo my pedicure, don't I?  

I'm sorry, what were we saying?  Something about me being an exhausted procrastinator with the attention span of a coked-up ferret?  Yeah, that might have been it.

So strictly for your entertainment, here is a list things that distracted me today- which will also serve as the perfectly reasonable list of excuses why I didn't accomplish 90% of my "To-Do List" today.

-"What's that smell?" (in order: the dog, Toby's diaper, something still unidentified in the fridge)

- "Oh, look! I haven't seen this episode of Blue's Clues..."

- "What was that crash?" (Toby tipping over the heavy table in his room, Toby flipping the laundry basket over in an attempt to ride it down the stairs, Toby knocking the step-stool over while trying to wash his hands for the 54326 time today)

- Things I noticed that completely derailed me en route to something else: 

- the 4 dead flies we have trapped on the fly paper in the kitchen

- my empty coffee mug

- 3 empty packets of fruit snacks

- the entire section of fake Crocs at Walmart

- a forgotten package of unopened bacon in the crisper, discovered while searching out the aforementioned mystery smell, which I have been fantasizing about all afternoon

- Things I need to get done but were NOT on my to-do list for today, which didn't stop me from spending precious hours obsessing over them while accomplishing exactly nothing this afternoon:

- packing my suitcase for the Birthing Inn

- packing for our trip to the beach next week

- finding Big Daddy's swim trunks for the beach trip

- shopping for new school clothes for Jack

- bringing up the box of "newborn to 3 months" boys' clothes from basement storage to wash and put away for Milo

- installing the infant car seat into the van

- cleaning the van out for the beach trip

In fact, the only serious task I accomplished today was scheduling the dog for a visit with The Vet From Hell for this weekend so he can get up-to-date on all his vaccines before we deposit him at the boarding kennel next week.  So acute is my fear of this horribly nasty man, I got off the phone with his very pleasant receptionist and almost wept with relief that the only available appointment was Saturday morning.  This means that Big Daddy gets the honor of dealing with the whole thing, and I am saved from being lectured on: the evils of Any Pet Food That Is Not Science Diet, being a horrid mean dog parent who refuses to get my dog vaccinated for anything that isn't a documented risk in our area (no, I don't want the lyme disease vaccine for an extra $50, thanks), and allowing the nice vet at our boarding kennel to administer a rabies vaccine because it was more convenient for us at the time.  

All things considered... well, I mean, the whole vet thing? It's pretty traumatic.  So when you put that into perspective AND realize that I am also incredibly busy with the growing of a small human being, I really accomplished quite an impressive lot today, didn't I?

Thanks, I'm glad we had this talk.  I feel much better now.  Was it good for you?

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

Tonight we drive to the dealership to pick up the new car.  Yes, I said "new".   I know, I'm quelling the panic at the thought of the car payment... but aside from the fact that it appears John Q. Everybody is busy trading in their horrific gas-guzzling SUV's for every compact and sub-compact car in the used market  (Even our beloved Carmax came up with a pitifully sad selection of vehicles to fit the bill in replacing the dearly departed Aquaman) Big Daddy is in critical need of a vehicle with things like.. you know... air conditioning and working windows and locks.  Also a vehicle that doesn't require me to crawl out of bed and come rescue him from a breakdown off the side of some godforsaken stretch of highway between here and civilization in the wee hours of the morning would be lovely.

Rest in peace, AquaMan.

And so it is that Big Daddy will soon be the proud owner of a brand-spanking new Saturn Astra. Because the availability is limited in our area he found that to get the options he wanted his only color choice was... silver.  Like the minivan.  He mentioned that he fully expects to wake up tomorrow to find a troop of gnomes with pickaxes making a muck of the front lawn.  Don't mind him, though, he's just bitter because he has a thing for blue ("da-ba-dee-da-ba-doo").

So that's changing, then.  New car.  That's different, right?

So then we leave in about a week for our family vacation to the Outer Banks.  Sand, surf and, hopefully, quiet hours in the sunshine with a good book.  And then back home just in time to get Jack ready for Kindergarten.  Now, normally this would involve copious quantities of wine and weeping. For me, I mean.  Being pregnant limits my mental health options, though, so I may have to make due with tabloid magazines and frozen limeade.

Once we get into the swingin' routine of regular school (did I mention it's all day kindergarten? ALL. DAY. *sniffle*) I'll have a few hectic weeks to prepare for the arrival of the small being currently percolating in my lady regions.  And by "small" I mean "freakishly huge, just like my previous spawn".  I was hoping to land somewhere in the eight pound range this time but if the size of my exponentially growing belly is any indication this baby will weigh approximately 86 pounds.  So at least there's the fame and free diaper sponsorships to look forward to.

But basically what I'm getting at here (not that you expected a coherent point at this stage in our narrative, did you?) is that my life 8 weeks from now will be unrecognizable as the same life I am currently leading and I'm really not sure exactly how I feel about that.  I'm sure it will all end up just peachy keen, but it's the not knowing that is driving me a little bonkers.

So I guess what I'm getting at is... Hold me? And maybe send cookies.

  

Blog The Recession

Kristin over at Motherhood Uncensored noticed that July has been a pretty craptastic month across the board.  Oh, sure, there were some fantastic highlights - BlogHer, pretty fireworks, and (for me) my kid turning 5. 

But there was also the wrecking of Big Daddy's car and, oh, did I mention my kid turning 5?

It's hard out there for a pimp blogger, y'all, so let's all do something a little kinder and gentler in August and Blog The Recession.  Basically, that means if you're using a feed reader and normally don't click through... just this once, go ahead and click.  And once you arrive on the site, maybe go ahead and click a few of those sponsor ads.  

Christmas will be here before you know it, and who couldn't use a few extra bucks in pocket right now?  Even if they (like me) don't have any ads, the added eye t

raffic will send a little internet love (the good kind) their way.  

Spread the love, my peoples.  Haven't you heard? There's a recession on.  It could end up like 1977 around here, and nobody wants that, now do they? 

The effects of the recession echoed all the way into 1981.

Or, maybe this is just a gratuitous photo of my second birthday.